1 For four years, Mackenzie’s favorite word was “boundaries.” I did not know her passwords, touch her phone, or enter her study. Friends asked if she was hiding something. I defended her, blaming a tough childhood and lack of security. Last week, her phone lit up on the counter. A message from “Eric” read, “Tracker says you’re home. Aren’t you coming out?” I unlocked it and scrolled up. Her earlier text said, “Keep location sharing on. I need to know where you are.” Further up, he asked, “Made it to the office?” She replied, “Just walked in. Photo for you.” He answered, “Good boy.” Their live locations were shared 24/7. Last month, I ran a 103-degree fever. I asked her to pick me up from the clinic. She told me to send my location so she could order an Uber because she was busy in her study. I never knew what she did in there. Now I did. It was not boundaries. She simply did not care to possess me. No tears, no scene. I took off her fourth-anniversary necklace, left it on the foyer table, and signed the Munich job contract. … “What are you looking at?” Mackenzie pushed the study door open, her voice as calm as ever, though it carried her usual tone of quiet scrutiny. I calmly locked my phone screen. The job confirmation email, destined for our European headquarters in Munich, had already been sent. “Just looking at some job listings,” I said, placing the phone face down on the table. Mackenzie walked over to the kitchen island and poured herself a glass of warm water. Her eyes immediately darted to the charging cable I had just disconnected. It was her phone. Her brow furrowed in a barely perceptible flinch. “Gavin, I believe I’ve told you before not to touch my phone.” “I didn’t touch it.” “It was originally two centimeters away from the charging base. Now it is completely aligned with it.” She picked up the device, her tone devoid of anger but heavy with quiet reprimand. “I do not like people invading my private space. You know that.” I knew. Over our four years together, her private space had been a fortress guarded by a standing army. She changed her lock screen password once a month. Without her explicit permission, I wasn’t even allowed into her study to clean. She told me it was a trauma from her childhood, that she needed absolute control to feel secure. I believed her for four years. Until yesterday, when she forgot to lock her screen, and I saw the name Eric. Eric. Her junior from university. For him, she had no boundaries whatsoever. “How were your test results at the hospital today?” she asked, taking a sip of water. “The doctor said the pneumonia hasn’t fully cleared. I need to keep taking the medication.” “Then make sure you take it on time.” “My fever reducers ran out, and the pharmacy downstairs doesn’t carry the brand I need. Can you come with me to the medical center to get a prescription?” Mackenzie set her glass down, glancing at her watch. “I have an online conference at three.” “It’s only half past one.” “I need to prepare the slides beforehand.” She walked over, habitually running her fingers through my hair. “Just take a cab there. It is very convenient.” I didn’t pull away from her hand. I only stared at her quietly. “Mackenzie, last week you said you were too busy in your study, and you had me take a cab to the ER alone. Today is the same.” “I actually have work to do.” She let out a soft sigh, as if she found my request childish. “Gavin, you are twenty-six years old. Going to the clinic is a minor task you can handle yourself. Don’t be so dependent on me.” I wasn’t dependent on her. When I sat alone in the ER until three in the morning with an IV drip in my arm, I hadn’t depended on her either. Her phone buzzed against the marble counter. Mackenzie looked down, a rare, soft warmth flickering in her eyes. She quickly typed a reply. I didn’t need to look to know it was Eric. After all, they had their locations shared twenty-four hours a day. “I have to go out for a bit,” she said, reaching for her car keys. “Don’t you have a conference at three?” “Something urgent came up.” “What kind of urgent business?” Her movements paused as she put on her shoes. She turned back to face me, her brow furrowing again. “Gavin, you are crossing a line.” “I was just asking.” “We agreed we wouldn’t interfere with each other’s personal schedules,” she said, pushing the door open. “I’ll be back soon.” The door clicked shut. I walked to the foyer, looking down at the slippers she had just stepped out of. There was a faint scratch on the leather. It happened last month when she helped Eric move into his new apartment, scraping her foot against an old wooden dresser. She had spent the entire day at his place. She told me he was new to the city and had no family here, so as his senior, it was her duty to look after him. I walked to the balcony, watching her car pull out of the driveway. Then, I opened a local courier app on my phone. I entered the address of Eric’s apartment. I wasn’t trying to spy on her; I was simply having a document delivered to his building to see if she was there. Twenty minutes later, the courier sent me a confirmation photo. Mackenzie’s car was parked outside Eric’s building. The passenger door was wide open. She was leaning in, carefully buckling the seatbelt for a young man in a white shirt. The boy was smiling brightly, reaching up to gently pinch her ear. Mackenzie didn’t pull away. She actually tilted her head slightly, letting him do it. The woman who claimed she hated being touched, the woman who had built her entire life around boundaries. She looked as gentle as a tamed kitten. I saved the photo and canceled the delivery order. I went back to the living room and began packing my bags. 2 My flight to Munich was in fifteen days. I didn’t have many belongings. Though I had lived in this apartment for four years, there were very few traces of my existence. Mackenzie preferred a cold, minimalist aesthetic, keeping the living room in shades of black, white, and gray. I had once bought a pair of warm yellow cushions for the sofa, but she had tucked them away in a closet that very evening. “The color is too loud. It ruins the visual balance.” I never bought another decorative item after that. Around dinner time, Mackenzie sent a text. The meeting is running late. I won’t be home for dinner. Find something for yourself. I replied with a single word: Okay. Within half an hour, a new contact request popped up on my phone. The profile picture was a ragdoll cat, and the name was “Eric.” The message read: Hello, Gavin. I’m Eric, Mackenzie’s junior from university. I accepted the request. He immediately sent a message. Gavin, I am so sorry. Mackenzie was supposed to have a meeting this afternoon, but I accidentally sprained my ankle. She insisted on driving me to the hospital and waiting with me for the X-ray results. Then came a photo. In the waiting room of the ER. Mackenzie was leaning over him, carefully holding an ice pack against his swollen ankle. The harsh white lights of the hospital fell over her face, making her look incredibly tender. It was an expression she had never shown me. Please don’t be mad at her, Gavin. I was just clumsy and didn’t watch my step. She’s always so busy, and I feel terrible for constantly causing trouble for her. I looked at the text, feeling absolutely nothing. No problem. Is it serious? I replied. The doctor said the bone is fine, just some soft tissue damage. I need to rest it for a few days. That’s good. Gavin, Mackenzie went to queue at the pharmacy for my medication. She mentioned you were supposed to get a checkup today too. Did you go? He was asking a question he already knew the answer to. Yes. Oh, that’s too bad. Mackenzie shouldn’t have let you go alone. I’ll make sure to scold her for you next time! Even through the screen, the smug, passive-aggressive tone was clear. He enjoyed the triumph of stealing her attention from me. He thrived on being her sole exception. Mackenzie returned at ten that night. She carried the faint scent of hospital disinfectant, mixed with a trace of perfume. Jo Malone’s Wild Bluebell. Eric had posted a photo of that exact fragrance on his social media feed last week, calling it a gift from his favorite senior. “Still awake?” she asked, hanging her coat in the closet. “Waiting for you.” “I told you that you didn’t have to.” She walked over to the sofa and sat down, rubbing her temples, looking exhausted. “Was the meeting that difficult?” I asked, watching her. Her movements stiffened for a fraction of a second before she regained her composure. “Yes. Some international accounts had issues. We’ve been arguing all afternoon.” She lied. She did it without blinking, her face perfectly calm. “Does your ankle still hurt?” I asked suddenly. She looked up, a flash of genuine panic in her eyes. “What ankle?” “I thought I saw you limping when you walked in. I thought you might have twisted it.” I explained smoothly. She let out a soft breath, offering a faint smile. “No, I think my leg is just asleep from sitting too long.” I watched her flawless performance. For four years, I wondered how many times she had used this gentle, reasonable mask to deceive me. “Mackenzie.” “Yes?” “If I disappeared one day, would you look for me?” Her movements froze as she poured a glass of water. She turned to face me, her brow furrowing. “Gavin, why are you asking these ridiculous questions lately?” “Just curious.” “We are getting married soon. Where would you disappear to?” She walked over, patting my shoulder. “Stop overthinking and go to bed. I have to be up early for the office tomorrow.” She didn’t answer my question. She only dismissed me with her usual warning not to overthink. I watched her walk into the bathroom, a faint smile touching my lips. My ticket to Munich was already confirmed. She wouldn’t have to look for me. Because she would never be able to find me. 3 The next day was Saturday. Surprisingly, Mackenzie didn’t leave early. Instead, she sat in the living room, flipping through a book. When I stepped out of the bedroom, she looked up at me. “The weather is nice today. Do you want to go out?” I was caught off guard. Over our four years together, the times she had suggested a weekend date could be counted on one hand. “Where?” “An art exhibition just opened in the East End. Didn’t you say you wanted to see it?” I had wanted to see it. I had mentioned it to her three months ago. At the time, she had said, “What is the point of looking at manufactured installations? It is a waste of time.” I had never brought it up again. Why the sudden change of heart? I nodded. “Sure.” We drove toward the East End. During the drive, her phone sat on the console between us. The screen lit up. A message from Eric. Mackenzie, I’m feeling much better today. I’m really craving that sea-salt caramel Swiss roll from the bakery in the East End. Could you pick one up for me? I sat in the passenger seat, seeing every word clearly. The East End. The Swiss roll. It wasn’t a long-overdue date after all. It was just a convenient detour. “What’s wrong?” Mackenzie saw me staring at the console, and she quickly turned the phone face down. “Nothing. The sun is just a bit bright today.” I looked out the window. The exhibition was crowded. Mackenzie walked ahead of me, maintaining her customary distance. She didn’t hold my hand. She said displaying affection in public was unseemly. I walked two paces behind her, watching her back. When we reached an installation called “Fragments of Time,” I stopped. It was a massive glass wall covered in thousands of old train and plane tickets. “Gavin, what are you looking at?” she asked, turning back. “Those are just old travel stubs.” “It represents the journeys of others.” “It’s a rather dull concept,” she said, checking her watch. “Let’s go. It’s almost lunchtime.” She was in a hurry to buy the Swiss roll. The bakery was located on the lower level of the adjacent shopping center. We waited in line for twenty minutes. When we reached the counter, there were only two sea-salt caramel rolls left in the display. “I’ll take both of these, packaged separately,” Mackenzie told the clerk. “Of course, ma’am.” She turned to me. “You like sweets, don’t you? I bought one for you too.” “I don’t like sea-salt flavor.” “Oh, I must have forgotten.” Her tone was perfectly flat, carrying no hint of apology. “We’ll just put them both in one bag, then.” She gave both to Eric. My favorite was matcha. She hadn’t even glanced at the matcha cakes sitting right next to them. Back in the car, she placed the delicate paper bag carefully in the back seat. “I have a quick errand to run. Would you mind waiting in the car, or do you want to take a cab back?” “Where are you going?” “To meet a client.” “Meeting a client on a Saturday?” “An urgent issue came up,” she said, her voice tinged with irritation. “Be reasonable, Gavin.” Reasonable. That was her highest praise for me, and my heaviest chain. “Sure. I’ll take a cab.” I pushed the door open and stepped out without hesitation. I stood on the curb, watching her car speed away. She didn’t even tell me to get home safely. I pulled out my phone and opened my social media. Eric’s feed had just updated. A photo of two sea-salt caramel rolls on a beautiful porcelain plate, next to a man’s hand holding a coffee cup. On his wrist was the Patek Philippe watch I had bought Mackenzie for her birthday last year. The caption read: The favored child always gets sweets. I liked the post. Then, I blocked his number. I didn’t do it out of anger; I was simply tired of looking at him. When I got home that evening, Mackenzie was already there. She was typing on her laptop in the study, the door half-open. I walked in, and she immediately closed the lid. “Why didn’t you knock?” “The door was open.” “You should still knock,” she said, her expression hardening. “Gavin, you are losing your sense of boundaries.” “I’m sorry,” I said, looking at her defensive posture. “I just wanted to ask if you were free tomorrow evening.” “What is tomorrow?” “It’s our fourth anniversary.” She blinked, her eyes darting away. “I have a mandatory dinner with a client tomorrow night.” “Is it that important?” “Yes, a major account,” she said, reopening her laptop. “I’ll make it up to you next weekend.” “Alright.” I turned and walked out of the study. There was no need to make it up next weekend. Because by then, I would already be gone. 4 On our fourth anniversary, I sat alone in the apartment, eating a simple bowl of pasta. By eight, a massive thunderstorm rolled in. Lightning flashed across the sky, accompanied by heavy rolls of thunder. I sat on the sofa, watching the wall clock. At half past eight, the front door unlocked. Mackenzie walked in, dripping wet. I was surprised. I thought she had a client dinner. “Why are you so wet?” I asked, handing her a towel. She took it, drying her hair quickly, a trace of panic in her expression. “The parking garage was full, and I had to walk from the street.” “The garage has direct elevator access.” Her movements froze. “The elevator was out of order.” I didn’t press the matter. She hurried into the bathroom to shower. As she tossed her wet clothes into the laundry basket, a small object fell from her coat pocket. It was an elegant red velvet box. The unzipped pocket had let it slip out. I walked over, bending down to pick it up. She had brought it home last night, and I had assumed it was a corporate gift. I opened the box. Inside was a sterling silver necklace with a custom pendant shaped like the letter “T.” T for Eric. Underneath the necklace was a small card. Eric, don’t be afraid of the thunder. I’m here. My fingers trembled slightly, but my mind remained perfectly calm. I placed the necklace back in the box and slipped it back into her wet coat pocket. She hadn’t been at a client dinner. She had been comforting Eric during the storm. And because of the heavy rain, she had rushed home to keep up her performance, running from her car without even parking properly. I walked to the balcony, watching the pouring rain outside. I remembered a rainy night three years ago. I had been writhing on the bed in agony from acute appendicitis, calling her for help. She was out of town on business, and she had simply replied, “Drink some warm water, and call an ambulance.” It turned out she was capable of running through a storm for someone. It just wasn’t for me. The bathroom door opened, and Mackenzie walked out in her robe. She glanced at the laundry basket, and once she saw the coat was untouched, she let out a visible sigh of relief. “Why didn’t you order dinner?” she asked, walking over to me. “I wasn’t hungry.” She reached into her robe pocket and handed me a small box. “Happy anniversary. I picked this up at the mall.” I opened it. It was a simple four-leaf clover necklace, a common design worth perhaps fifty dollars. Compared to the custom letter “T” necklace, it was cheap and thoughtless. “Thank you,” I said, setting it on the coffee table. “You don’t like it?” She frowned. “I do.” “You are always so cold,” she muttered, annoyed. “I buy you a gift, and you don’t even smile.” “Mackenzie.” “Yes?” “Were you really at a client dinner tonight?” Her gaze turned icy instantly. “What are you implying? I work a long day, come home exhausted, and instead of a welcome, I get interrogated?” “I’m not interrogating you.” “Then what do you mean?” her voice rose. “I told you I was at a dinner. If you don’t believe me, I can give you the client’s number and you can call them yourself!” She knew I wouldn’t call. And I didn’t care to expose her. “I believe you.” Looking at my calm expression, she felt as though she was punching water. Frustrated, she adjusted her robe. “I have a business trip to Chicago tomorrow. I’ll be gone for about a week.” “Safe travels.” My flight to Munich was in four days. Her week-long trip would allow me to leave without any confrontation. The next morning, she left with her suitcase. “Take care of yourself while I’m gone,” she said, changing her shoes in the foyer. “Will you bring me back something?” I asked suddenly. She blinked, clearly surprised by my request. “What does Chicago have? Deep-dish pizza? It’s too greasy for you. I’ll just find some standard souvenir.” “Alright.” The door closed. She didn’t look back. I walked to the window, watching her car drive away. Two hours later, I logged onto my computer and accessed the flight portal. I entered her ID number, which I had memorized from booking her previous flights. There were no records of a flight to Chicago. Instead, I found a booking for a flight to Miami, departing in two hours. The passenger sitting next to her: Eric. Her “business trip” was a beach vacation with him. I didn’t cry. I took the cheap clover necklace from its box and tossed it into the trash can. I packed the last of my clothes into my suitcase. Then, I called my landlord. “Mrs. Gable, my lease is up at the end of the month. I won’t be renewing. Mackenzie’s belongings are still in the apartment; she will handle them herself.” The day of my flight was clear and bright. The airport was bustling with travelers, and the announcements echoed through the terminal. I queued at the check-in counter with my two large suitcases. While waiting at the gate, I opened my tablet, connected to the airport Wi-Fi, and logged into my social media accounts one last time. My inbox was empty. Mackenzie hadn’t messaged me. Eric’s feed, however, was highly active. His latest post was a photo of a sunny beach. He was in swim trunks, his back to the camera, as a woman’s slender hand applied sunscreen to his shoulders. The caption read: Someone said the Miami sun is too harsh and insisted on being my personal skin-care therapist. The comments from their mutual friends were filled with teasing remarks. Wow, Mackenzie is really spoiling you! This is too sweet! I scrolled past without expression. I opened my chat with Mackenzie. Our last message was my text from four days ago: Safe travels. She had never replied. My fingers typed a final message: Mackenzie, let’s end this. There were no long paragraphs of accusations, no desperate questions. I hit send, then immediately selected “Delete and Block.” Afterward, I closed the account entirely, cutting my ties to the city. “Passengers for flight LH721 to Munich, boarding has now begun…” I packed my tablet, took my suitcase, and walked toward the gate. Through the glass windows, I watched a plane climb through the clouds into the endless blue sky. I didn’t look back.
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